


bossa nova baby

by WeeBeastie



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Daddy Kink, Deleted Scenes, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, M/M, Ocean’s 11 AU, Prequel, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 09:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14891949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/pseuds/WeeBeastie
Summary: hey, bossa nova babykeep on a workin'cause this ain't no time to quit[an exceptionally filthy how-they-met prequel to ‘set my soul on fire’]





	bossa nova baby

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [](http://i.imgur.com/SE2oUSt)  
>   
> 
> 
> First: thank you Jo for the art and the support! <3
> 
> Second: this is really filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. There is daddy kink, a lot of it. There is explicit sex. Silver is technically underage here although that doesn’t come out to Flint in this fic - he tells him he’s 19. He’s actually 17. Flint doesn’t find that out for literally years, but it’s the truth. If any of this bothers you, back out now while you’ve still got the chance. 
> 
> Title and lyrics in the summary borrowed from ‘Bossa Nova Baby’ by Elvis Presley. This fic will probably (?) make more sense if you’ve already read my other fic ‘set my soul on fire’ but I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life.
> 
> UPDATE OCTOBER 2018: I received a notice from AO3 that someone had complained that this fic wasn’t tagged Underage, and a warning to tag it either with that or with Author Chose Not To Use Warnings, within a week, or they’d tag it for me. So now it’s tagged Underage. May I humbly request that in the future if someone has an issue with my tags, they reach out to me either in the comments here or on my Tumblr (lurkerdelima). Thanks!

Flint goes to the same dive bar in Calexico for two weeks in a row at least without seeing anybody new.

He’s languishing there, bored out of his mind on the California side of the Mexican border. Supposedly he’s cooling his heels, taking himself out of the game for a few months until the heat’s off and the coast is clear. In reality? He’s just drinking away all his money and trying to keep a low enough profile not to get arrested. 

He looks up one hazy evening - he’s lost track of what day it is, but it feels like a Tuesday or maybe a Wednesday - and sees a new person at the other end of the bar. He’s very young by the looks of him, a lithe boy with narrow hips and broad shoulders, old enough to be on his own but still too young to grow real facial hair. 

He looks up. Catches Flint watching him. Smiles. 

Before Flint can stop himself, he’s strolling over, a bit tipsy but not so drunk as to excuse what is sure to be a very bad decision. 

“Hi there,” he says, folding his arms on the bar and leaning on them. He studies the boy up close - bright blue eyes, deep tan, and those silky dark curls. He’s a real looker, this one. He’s dangerous. 

“Hi,” says the kid, and Flint belatedly realizes he’s chewing pink bubblegum, the sweet, faux fruit scent of it wafting over under Flint’s nose. The boy smiles, then blows a huge bubble before deftly popping it and pulling the gum back into his mouth. He works it with teeth and tongue like he knows Flint can’t look away. 

“What’s your name?” Flint asks. He wants to reach out and touch the boy’s hair, wrap a curl around his finger. But he needs to get some intel on his new friend first. 

“John Silver,” purrs the little minx, sidling closer to Flint. He runs one index finger up Flint’s forearm and smiles at him, beguiling. All charm. “Yours?”

“James Flint,” Flint replies, inclining his head towards the kid - towards Silver. “How old are you, John?” he rumbles. _Please please please be at least eighteen_ , he thinks, just this side of desperate. 

“Nineteen,” he says, and it sounds like the truth. Unprompted, he produces a battered black leather wallet from his back pocket and shows Flint a driver’s license, then a military dependent ID. They both seem to say he is as he says - a legal adult. 

“I see,” Flint says, mulling it over. Legal adulthood aside, Silver is a whole eight years younger than he is, and that’s younger than anybody Flint’s ever been with before. Even just for a one night stand. On the other hand, the tequila is warming him from the inside out, he hasn’t gotten laid in months, and Silver is right here, willing and eager. “You looking for some company tonight, John?” he asks softly.

“I’m looking for a daddy,” Silver says, and his forwardness startles a laugh out of Flint. “You think you could help me out with that, James?” he asks, curling his fingers in the front of Flint’s shirt. Oh, _hell_ yes. 

“Yeah, kid, I think maybe I can,” Flint purrs. He leans in and kisses Silver, tasting the overwhelming sweetness of the bubblegum in his mouth. It tastes like the color pink. He grabs him by the waist and pulls him in close, relishing the feel of Silver’s warm, eager young body in his arms. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone. 

Flint could just keep kissing him all night, but eventually Silver pulls back, panting in his ear, “Tell me you’ve got a room nearby.”

“I do,” Flint assures him. He takes Silver’s hand in his own, noticing for the first time that he’s got a tattoo on the left one and that both are ridiculously large compared to the rest of him. That’s supposed to be a good sign, right? He tugs Silver out of the dingy bar and into the street, in the direction of the motel where he’s been crashing for the past...month? Six weeks? He can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. 

What matters is, as soon as he gets inside and locks the door behind him, Silver is kissing him again, sans the bubblegum now. What matters is that Silver is hot and a little sloppy with his kisses, and already achingly hard against Flint’s thigh. He smells like the sea and the earth and he’s making impatient little moaning sounds - all that’s what matters. 

“You said you want a daddy,” Flint says, playfully shoving Silver away from him, back towards the bed. “You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

The look Silver gives him is keen, wise beyond his years. “Yeah,” he breathes, and the timbre of his voice makes the hairs on the back of Flint’s neck stand up. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking expectantly up at Flint. “Come on, daddy. Let’s do this.”

Flint advances on him then, taking the hem of Silver’s shirt in hand and pulling it off over his head. He pauses to just look at him, admiring his bare chest, the sparse dark hair, his pinkish-brown nipples going hard in the air conditioned room. He leans down, close to his chest, inhaling the raw smell of him from up close. The scents of earth and sea on him are even stronger. 

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” Flint asks, finally giving into temptation and wrapping one of Silver’s curls around his index finger. It feels just as silky and soft as he’d hoped. 

“No,” Silver says, looking up at Flint and smiling. His teeth are dazzlingly white. “But I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Flint rumbles his approval and takes his own shirt off over his head, looking around the room for what he can use. It’s not like he has a bag of tricks here in the motel room. He looks down at the shirt in his hands and an idea suddenly occurs to him. 

“Take off your pants, and your underwear if you’ve got any on.” He’s pretty sure Silver doesn’t. “Then lie on your stomach for me, hands behind your back. You’re okay with being tied up, yes?” he asks. Silver just nods, mute. “I need a real answer.”

“Yes, daddy,” Silver says, and fuck if Flint wasn’t right about his initial assessment of the kid - he’s dangerous. Silver follows his instructions immediately, stripping bare and stretching out on the motel bed face down, resting his hands obediently on the small of his back. 

Wasting no time whatsoever, Flint wraps his shirt around Silver’s wrists and ties it, securely binding his hands behind his back. Then he hurriedly undresses himself the rest of the way, climbing on the bed naked to straddle Silver’s legs. Silver shifts underneath him, like he’s getting impatient already. 

“You need to promise me one thing before we really get going, here,” Flint says lowly, running one hand up his back and grabbing a fistful of his curls. “Promise me that if you’re not having a good time, you’ll speak up.”

“I promise,” Silver says, and shifts under him again. “Can we _please_ get this show on the road?”

“Brat,” Flint says, delighted, and pulls Silver’s hair, hard. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Silver purrs, squirming under Flint, lithe young body undulating. “Make it hurt, daddy, I like it rough.”

“Fuck,” Flint groans, not quite believing his luck, here. He leans over the edge of the bed and rummages around blindly until he comes up with the high-quality lube he knew was down there somewhere. He opens it and puts some on his fingers, starting to tease Silver’s hole. 

“Please,” Silver whimpers, shifting back, pressing against Flint’s gentle, curious fingers. 

“You’re so tight,” Flint says softly, pushing the tips of two fingers just barely inside him. Silver cries out loudly, his fingers flexing and curling, bound hands struggling against the fabric of Flint’s shirt. “You like that, baby?”

“Yeah,” Silver gasps, and bucks under Flint’s hand like he’s trying to get more. Suddenly it occurs to Flint that he’s being awfully loud - perhaps it’s time to gag him. He grabs Silver’s shirt from where he threw it aside and reaches around with the shirt in his free hand, feeding it into Silver’s mouth. He immediately bites down hard on it - what a good boy. 

Flint eases his fingers deeper inside Silver, gradually working him open. He’s so tight and hot inside, Flint can barely keep himself in check long enough to properly, thoroughly stretch Silver to accommodate his cock. Once he’s got three fingers in him, thrusting them in and out and reveling in the noises Silver is making around his t-shirt gag, Flint decides it’s enough. He pulls his fingers out, grabs a condom from where he’s got a stash of them in the nightstand, and quickly readies himself. 

Sinking into Silver feels like nothing Flint’s ever known before. He’s had plenty of sex with plenty of people, but it’s never been like this his first time with someone. It thrills him and it scares him, just a little. He groans as he pushes into Silver, barely giving him a moment to adjust before he starts fucking him, setting a punishing pace. He’s kneeling between Silver’s spread legs, one hand on his thigh, the other tangling in his hair and pulling hard enough that Silver’s cry of pleasure echoes off the walls of the motel room, improvised gag be damned. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Flint pants, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of Silver’s thigh. He’s so eager, so hot and alive. It’s like Flint’s been sleepwalking and has found himself suddenly and blissfully _awake_. 

“Mmhm,” Silver whimpers in response around the gag, nodding frantically. 

Before long, Flint feels himself tensing, feels a tingling start at the base of his spine. He goes after it hard, then, fucking Silver fast and deep. Somehow, despite only having just met him, he knows he can take it. Silver’s whimpers increase in volume and frequency (hazily, Flint wonders if the gag is even still in his mouth), and then he goes still beneath Flint before thrashing wildly, legs kicking, head turning side to side. He’s coming, Flint realizes, and that tips him abruptly over the edge. He comes too, with a low moan, raking his fingernails down Silver’s thigh hard with one hand and yanking mercilessly on his hair with the other. 

Once he’s finished, thoroughly wrung out from his orgasm, Flint pulls out of Silver and rolls off him, panting hard. He sits up just enough to reach over and free Silver’s hands, tossing aside his shirt and gently stroking his fingers over Silver’s wrists. 

“God help me,” he moans, pleased beyond belief - ecstatic, even. He settles on his back and belatedly reaches over to take the shirt from Silver’s mouth. He shakes it out and is startled to realize it’s got some large holes in it now - it didn’t have those before. “Did you bite through this?” he asks, shocked and, okay, a little impressed. 

“Yeah,” Silver says with a sheepish little grin. “You did me _good_ , daddy,” he purrs, and leans over to kiss Flint. 

Flint kisses him languidly for a long few minutes, feeling something unfamiliar but not unpleasant stirring in his belly. When he pulls back, he studies Silver’s young, wide open face and wonders if he should kick him out of his motel room. Tell him to go home, whatever that means for him. Forget about him now that they’ve both gotten off. 

He doesn’t do any of those things. 

Silver spends the night in his bed, tucked up under his arm, and wakes him with an enthusiastic, exceptionally skilled blowjob late the next morning. Good lord, what kind of good karma has Flint inadvertently stumbled into that he’s gotten this fortunate? Where exactly did this boy John Silver come from, and how is it that Flint was the lucky son of a bitch who managed to snatch him up?

He lends Silver one of his shirts since Silver’s only one is now riddled with holes, and they go out for breakfast together. Silver eats and eats, and Flint wonders if he hasn’t had a good meal in a while or if this is just a part of who he is. He suspects the latter. 

They’re walking through the dusty city streets after, Flint buzzing pleasantly from two bloody Marys, when Silver nudges into his side. 

“See that guy? Distract him,” he says in Flint’s ear, then breaks left as Flint zeroes in on the target: an older man, clearly a tourist, pink with a recently acquired sunburn. 

“Excuse me, sir?” Flint starts, playing tourist himself, pretending like he needs help finding his way around. He gets directions from the man to the closest shopping mall, and wouldn’t even notice Silver at work if he weren’t a con man himself. 

After the tourist walks off, none the wiser, Flint reconvenes with Silver. His boy has robbed the man blind: wallet, phone, even his watch, somehow. 

“Why’d you need to do that?” Flint asks, curiosity piqued. He’s impressed, but playing it cool. 

“Because it’s what I’m good at,” Silver replies, and gives Flint a dazzling smile. 

“You’re a thief,” Flint says knowingly, tucking Silver’s short, dark curls behind one ear. “And a good boy,” he rumbles, the wheels in his mind turning. “Come with me,” he says, impulsive and reckless as ever. 

“Where?” Silver asks, leaning in close to him. 

“Las Vegas,” Flint says. “To see a friend of mine.” Richard Guthrie, to be precise. It’s time for Flint to get back in the game. He’ll lose his mind if he has to spend any more time underground. 

“Why me?” Silver asks, his intensely blue eyes searching Flint’s face. It’s a valid question. 

“Because,” Flint says, hooking a finger in Silver’s belt loop and tugging him so close they’re breathing the same air, “I think we’ve got something here, you and me. It’d be a shame to see that spark smothered before it can catch.” He pauses. “Besides, if I’m reading you right - and I’d like to think that I am - it’s not like you’ve got anywhere better to be. Kid.”

“Accurate assessment, daddy,” Silver says, grinning. “Yeah, okay. Why the fuck not. Let’s go to Vegas.”

It’s the unlikely start of a legendary partnership, and it becomes an origin story Flint and Silver tell over and over again - Calexico, tequila, pickpocketing the unsuspecting tourist. Each time it gets a little more polished in the retelling, but it never quite loses its edge. 

After all, they wouldn’t really be them, would they, without that edge.


End file.
